


Unexpected

by ClaraNotOswald



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A little bit of blood, Angry John, Cute, Happy Ending, Hurt Sherlock, Johnlock - Freeform, Sad Sherlock, Sherlock is sorry, Sherlock's return, a bit dark, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 06:59:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6894712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraNotOswald/pseuds/ClaraNotOswald
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock returns from the dead, which John thinks is pretty unbelievable. Literally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected

It was another day. Another day without Sherlock. I wasn’t expecting any visitors, so had resigned to myself to my favourite chair and a newspaper. I made sure not to look at ‘his’ chair. It only brought back memories.

When there was a knock on the door, I was not all that surprised. Although the world knew about ‘his’ death, I still had a surprisingly large number of people coming to the door with cases. Some I tried to help solve, but most I dismissed. I was no…no… Sher... I wasn’t a genius.

I waited patiently as a tall man entered. He was middle aged, and his hair was beginning to grey. I noticed that he walked with a slight limp. I tried to make out the man’s features but they were obscured by a large beard and moustache.

“Good day sir”, I said, “What brings you here?” The man shuffled his feet, and that of his face which I could see seemed to be considering what to say next. “I, I was a fan of Sherlock Holmes.” I winced at the name, “I was wondering if I could see some of the case information. I, I loved his work…”

“Certainly” I stammered, turning around to get my laptop, where most of the information was. When I turned back, the man had disappeared. In his place, was… It was… him. He was here. But he couldn’t be. He was dead.

My head filled with anger and I reached for my gun, pointing it at the imposter. “Who are you?” I roared, my hands shaking with fury as I held the gun towards him. “It’s me, Sherlock” he replied, looking confused.

“How DARE you take his name? Is this some sort of joke? Sher…Sher… HE is dead. I SAW him fall!” I felt my hands tighten on the trigger and heard a loud bang. The man stumbled backwards, clutching his arm.

I froze for a second, shocked at what I had done. The room began to tilt alarmingly, and I scrabbled for something to hold on to. I felt my legs give way as my vision closed in on me.

When I opened my eyes, Sherlock wasn’t facing me. I could see him holding a red-soaked cloth to his arm. Then I remembered. Sher… ‘He’ was dead. This was an imposter. An imposter that I had shot.

I reached for my gun again, but found my pocket empty. I spied the handle protruding from the imposter’s pocket. ”Give me my gun” the man jumped at my voice, and turned around “No.”

“I said, give me my gun!” I growled, rising from my seat. A sudden bout of dizziness stopped me in my tracks and I sank back into my chair. “Who the hell are you?” I whispered.

 “I told you; it’s me, Sherlock.”

“Prove it.”

The man moved closer and I could see his eyes scanning my body. It was just like Sher…’he’ used to do. I noticed he was keeping the pocket with the gun in well away from me.

“Well, I know that since you left you’ve been through seven psychiatrists, wait, nearly eight; this one is rubbish, you should really find another. You haven’t had a single girlfriend since I’ve gone. Shame, they were an interesting bunch. You have been through 5 jobs, and have an interview tomorrow. You decided you are going to try hard for this one.  I can see that you haven’t been eating properly, and have taken up smoking. Smoking, John? After you made me quit…  Plus you’ve developed a caffeine addiction. Strange. I never saw you as the coffee type… Well, how did I do?”

I stared at the man in shocked silence. It was him. Sher…Sherlock was back. For the second time in that day the room span around me, as If I were riding a fairground ride.

This time as I opened my eyes I was staring into Sherlock’s face. He looked curious and concerned at the same time, and the look was almost comical on him. I stood in a daze. Sherlock was here. Sherlock was alive. I made out his voice “John, are you Ok? John!” I didn’t acknowledge it.

I couldn’t believe it. Two years without Sherlock. And he was back, back as if he had never left. I went to the kitchen, lost in thought. Sherlock followed close behind. As if in a dream, I reached out to put the kettle on, still ignoring the man behind me.

My hand shook as I poured the scalding water into the teacup, throwing the burning liquid over my hand. This seemed to awaken my brain and I stood, confused, for a second. Sherlock moved towards me tentatively, “John?”

Without warning I flew at him, and embraced my friend in a warm hug. “Promise me you will never do that again.” I said. “I promise.” He replied.


End file.
